Rising Tide
by Chaos Supernova
Summary: Captured. Locked up. All different words for the same feeling: TRAPPED. But they won't be trapped much longer. When a mysterious person stages a break in at Arkham Asylum, five dangerous people are kidnapped by this person. And this "rescuer" has big plans for them, including being on a "dream team" lead by the infamous Jerome Valeska. The GCPD has its own young blood, though. SYOC
1. OC forms

Rising Tide

OCs NEEDED

 **I have an idea for this story, but I NEED OCs! Got one? Send it in, please! The more detailed, the better! I have already filled in some of the spots listed below, for the sake of the story and to get the story started in case OC submission is slow. The more OCs I don't get, the more OCs I'll create.**

 **OC FORM:**

Name (I'm open to most things, but for some reason if I hate the name, I'll politely ask you to change it):

Age (I'd say 16+):

Gender (all females! This shouldn't be a problem...):

Appearance (physical features and notable things like birthmarks, scars, etc.):

Style of clothing after they get out/regular outfit after they get out:

Personality (no conflicting things like "hates everyone but wants to be loved" or "brave but shy" and stuff like that! Consistency!):

Life before they came to Arkham/childhood:

How/why they're in Arkham:

What triggered their above crime?:

Job on the "dream team" (Jobs are...Con Artist, Muscle, Sniper, Seducer, Thief):

Do they want to be a part of this "dream team"?:

Do they get along well with others? Do they follow or want to lead?:

Reaction to being broken out:

Reaction to being forced to do want XXXXX (the mysterious person) wants:

Reaction to being on a team with Jerome Valeska:

Best friends and worst enemies, inside or outside of Arkham (why, too, if need be):

Fatal flaws/worst traits (remember, these are insane criminals):

Preferred weapon:

Sexuality (I'm more likely to choose yours if they're straight, I'm just more comfortable with straight):

Romantic interest (Jerome has one, but we can all fight over him! Or maybe a GCPD? ;) be creative!):

Hometown/Country:

Celebrity look alike:

(Optional) Quotes:

How much flexibility I have with this character on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being whatever you want, I'm probably never going to read this anyway and 10 being YOU MUST GET EVERYTHING EXACTLY RIGHT ALL THE TIME. 5 being I'd like you to get her/him in character, but I don't mind if you play around with them.):

Anything else I missed or you want to add:

 **That's for the Arkham inmates. For GCPD officers, I will list below:**

Name (I'm open to most things, but for some reason if I hate the name, I'll politely ask you to change it):

Age (I'd say 20+):

Gender (I'd like some tough female GCPD, like...Commander Essen...um...no spoilers, me...):

Appearance (physical features and notable things like birthmarks, scars, etc.):

Style of clothing/regular outfit:

Personality (no conflicting things like "hates everyone but wants to be loved" or "brave but shy" and stuff like that! Consistency!):

Do they get along well with others? Do they follow or want to lead?:

Motivation for hunting down escaped inmates:

How much they hate Jerome Valeska, on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being I'm in love, I'll do anything for him, 10 being murder on the spot):

Examples of their mantra or morals (e.g. never ever kill, no matter what):

Preferred partner (I'll pair your GCPD up with another OC, most likely, but if you REALLY REALLY REALLY want to work with Jim, I'll see what I can do.):

Best friends and worst enemies (why, too, if need be):

Fatal flaws/worst traits:

Best traits (because the good in GCPD!):

Preferred weapon:

Sexuality (I'm more likely to choose yours if they're straight, I'm just more comfortable with straight):

Romantic interest (Hey, maybe they're secretly in love with their teammate or a villain! Use your imagination!):

Hometown/Country:

Celebrity look alike:

(Optional) Quotes:

How much flexibility I have with this character on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being whatever you want, I'm probably never going to read this anyway and 10 being YOU MUST GET EVERYTHING EXACTLY RIGHT ALL THE TIME. 5 being I'd like you to get her/him in character, but I don't mind if you play around with them.):

Anything else I missed or you want to add:

 **I'm really sorry the OC forms are so long, I hate long OC forms, but these are just things I need to know! These are the spots available:**

 **Escaped Arkham inmates:**

 **Seelie Jones, the sniper**

 **(Open, the con artist)**

 **(Open, the seducer)**

 **(Open, the thief)**

 **GCPD Interns/Newbies:**

 **(Open, rising detective, leading the "Rising Tide" case)**

 **(Open, the rising detective's partner)**

 **(Open, an intern)**

 **(Open, an intern)**

 **Yay! Go submit! Please! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to PM me!**


	2. Overture

_Overture_

"She's crazy."

"They're all crazy here, if you haven't noticed."

"I know, it's just...I've been working here for about 20 years now, I haven't seen anyone just mumbling gibberish for the past three hours."

"First time for everything, Lester."

"I guess so. Do we need to put her in a straightjacket?"

"Probably. Wouldn't hurt. I'm more concerned that she'll harm herself, she's just...creepy."

The guards stared at the girl before them, taking in her ratty flannel pajamas, matted mousy brown hair, stuck up like a bird's nest, and glassy eyes that rarely blinked. It wasn't a pretty sight.

They tugged the straightjacket from the drawer, the locked one (well, they were all locked) on the top right corner. The two men were in an industrialized room, partioned by a thick plexi-glass interwoven steel window inbetween them and the girl. Lester couldn't express how happy he was for that barrier.

The girl was safe and sound in the rubber room opposite the officer's office, the tiny room they were in now, filled to the brim with filing cabinets and various drawers containing various contents, from straightjackets to instant coffee. Inmates would kill for instant coffee.

They marched in, and cornered the girl. She was handcuffed already, her hands behind her back and her feet to the ground. They fastened the jacket around her with no trouble, she was just...limp, like she had given up already.

Louis held up the girl's placard for her, stepping a safe distance away from the camera.

 _Sybil Demetrius. Age, 16._

Sybil Demetrius was...to put it simply, a loon. One of the craziest crazies yet. A member of the GCPD had found her screaming on top of the Wayne Enterprises building, some sort of crazy talk. She had been about to push someone off, a member of Wayne Enterprises, who chose to remain unidentified. That was what Lester had read in the news. The GCPD had stepped in, the girl was clearly insane. That was why Lester was here with her right now.

"Mm...buh...oll..." Mumblings came from the girl. Not again.

She had been repeating the same thing at different volumes the entire time she had been dropped off at the Asylum, and according to the GCPD officer, the entire trip to the Asylum, too.

"Gotham...burn...will..."

Lester pinched the bridge of his nose tight, sighing.

" _Acid rain, suffering, pain._

 _The rising tide will swallow Gotham in a wave of fire, killers, crazies, fighters, liars._

 _The ginger, the fire, rises above all, his grin growing wider and wider._

 _The all seeing eye, underestimated and misunderstood._

 _The steady hand, ambitious, wanting more than her life, to be all she could._

 _The gambler, reckless, power hungry, the best liar._

 _Gotham will burn, swallowed by fire.._." She broke into mumbling again.

"Creepy," Louis said. Lester nodded. The girl's monotone sent chills down his spine, if he was being honest.

He could of sworn he heard laughter afterwards.

 **OC forms are still open! I need my GCPD homies, (oh my god, did I seriously just say that...) and some inmates.**

 **See previous chapter for the OC forms! (For the inmates, please remember, I WANT insane, and just downright maniacal. I also want original, many OC forms I've seen have been triggered by drunken parents or parents of some sort. I want imperfect, insane, original inmates!)**

 **Spots:**

 **Escaped Arkham Inmates:**

 **Seelie Jones, sniper**

 **Sybil Demetrius, XXXXX (Her purpose will be revealed later, if you haven't already figured it out...)**

 **Blaze Tomlins, the con artist**

 **(Open spot, muscle)**

 **(Open spot, seducer)**

 **GCPD Peeps (I'm still saying stuff like this...)**

 **(Open, leading detective on "Rising Tide" case)**

 **(Open, leading detective's partner)**

 **(Open, intern)**

 **(Open, intern)**


	3. Prelude

Prelude

I'm back! And I've decided on most of the characters. I would like to respond to one reviewer, Val, who brought up some good points about SYOC stories that I will answer.

Val

Hi, I'm posting this just out of curiosity so I'm not going into this review with any means to troll or flame or whatever so I hope you don't get that impression from me but... I kind of did. Sorry.

Why would you ask people or more your readers to essentially create your OC's? **It's fun for both the readers and the author, the readers get a chance to see their character written by somebody else and the author gets more ideas to use and inspiration for scenes/characters/storylines whatever. It's just all around fun for everyone!**

I mean I understand that it would want them to read the story more and have more of an interaction feel but what if you write something they don't like in relation to their character? Or you essentially can't tap into the character they made up because you didn't make them up and then you just end up not liking the character and probably killing them off somehow. **If I write something they don't like, they have to deal with it. And that might happen, you're right. That's a good point there. If that happens, I will kindly inform the creator and ask them if I can kill them off. Oh well.**

Also, you've obviously read the OC forms, and I did too so I've notice the common traits. Spoiled teen/early twenties who can't get over parents death which causes them to lash out or grows up with abusive/neglectful parents which makes them to snap and kill them. **Mm-hmm. There have been some different ones, though, and I promise you, my OCs have very different origins.**

I mean some of them are essentially saner versions of Jerome and idk about you but all those background storylines for those characters are boring! Just very typical, if you really want an interesting OC you're better off doing some research and basing them on some real life stuff or just idk creating a character more interesting than someone one-dimensional that can easily be analyzed in a minute. **I agree. I am rejecting those ones. I have created some interesting characters! Just wait!**

Onto my review for your actual chapter:

I can't help but notice the name Sybil? Did you name here after the real life person who I think was the first case of multiple-personality disorder? Because if you did... that's cool! I totally support that name. **Sybil comes from the very very literal meaning of the name. I actually didn't know that, but Sybil is a lot saner than you might think...**

I also noticed that Lester is veryyyy similar to Lecter... Hmmm... I have thoughts hehehe **I just randomly came up with the name Lester XD He exists only in the Prelude, and maybe later if I want to write from a guard's perspective.**

But other than that if you were trying to reach creep factor level with all the crazies and whatever with the overture than I didn't get that feel... To me it was just kind of a there chapter like a filler not letting enough to excite me for the next chapter... to be honest I've read way better and I think that maybe you could do better too. **Well, that's your opinion. I wasn't necessarily trying to make it creepy, just to set the scene and provide a lot of foreshadowing. I've read way better, too! XD Don't hurt me, I'm under 13 years old, not exactly a professional.**

Oh, I almost forgot... why the need for all the OC's because from my experience of reading stories with a lot of OC's it complicates things and the author gets mixed up and doesn't know what to do and mixes the storyline and it just becomes a (not a hot) mess. **A lot of stories are like that, too, I agree, but not mine, I promise! I know my characters and my storyline. I prefer writing with OCs, because I know them and I have more freedom with them. I like my OCs in the world, maybe putting some canon characters in. That's just my preference.**

Honestly, you're better off sticking with OC and then maybe introducing another one before killing them of or something cause with all the storylines it gets confusing and boring fasssstttt. **Again, that's your opinion. Please don't judge this story just by the overture, it hasn't even gotten started yet. In the words of Jerome – "You ain't seen nothing yet!" Don't like this idea, don't read this story, please.**

Val did bring up some good points, though. So far I haven't gotten many OCs that really "spoke" to me, so I will probably make most of the "dream team" my OCs. I'm sorry, really, but I just don't want to be halfway into the story and realize "this character just isn't working." But the GCPD people will be SYOCs, mostly because I got some awesome ones that I really want to use!

Spots:

Seelie Jones, sniper

Sybil Demetrius, XXXXX

Blaze Tomlins, con artist

Amberley Gaskell, muscle

Eden Shelby, seductress

GCPD Peeps

Charli Keaton, the leading detective

Wren Fukui, her partner

She blinked. Where was she? It was dark. She waited briefly for the sound of her alarm clock, it probably would go off soon. But it didn't. She lay there in the dark for a minute before deciding to get up. It was a Friday, a schoolday, she had to get ready.

She swung out of bed (it seemed...shorter than usual, but maybe it was just morning disorientation), but her feet hit cold, metallic ground, not the soft carpet of her bedroom. A pang of fear struck her. Was it that kidnapper she saw on the news yesterday? She doubted it, though, the last thing she could remember was turning off her booklight and snuggling deeper into the sheets. She had a feeling she would have woken up if that were the case.

"She's awake," a male voice said.

She heard her breath hitch, her head wildly spinning around. "Who said that? Where am I?"

"She's not talking crazy," a different male voice muttered.

"Why would I be? Where am I?" she repeated.

"You were saying some pretty weird stuff last night, kid. And you're in Arkham Asylum, if you didn't notice."

No. No, no, no. What had she done this time? The most dangerous thing she had ever done sleepwalking was falling down the stairs. Luckily, her two little brother's pillow fort had been at the bottom, and broke her fall. But what could she possibly do sleepwalking that would get her into Arkham Asylum? She wasn't insane or a serial killer, she was just a normal American teenager. Minus the sleepwalking. "Can I ask you why I'm in here?" she asked in a small voice.

"You don't remember? Might be a side effect of the sleeping pill..."

"Um, no, I just have a really bad case of sleepwalking..." she interrupted.

"Huh. Well, you almost pushed some Wayne Enterprises guy off of Wayne Enterprises Tower at midnight, but GCPD got involved, took you here. You were screaming some sort of poem, about killers and fire and Gotham burning. You were creepy, kid," the man said, trailing off. "But you should really go to therapy or something like that. Get sleepwalking fixed."

"I've signed up, my first session is in January," she said, sighing.

"Well, talk to a therapist here. You're innocent – mostly – so I think you'll be put on trial, and only stay a few days in here, talking to the therapist. You probably won't be in here for long, don't worry."

Sybil nodded, though all she could think about was worry. What if one of the inmates attacked her? What if, for some reason, she was found guilty and sentenced to the rest of her life in here? Not a nice thought.

"Inmate's free time starts around now. You should get going. And, um, the uniform's beside you." A light flickered on, barely lighting the room around her, which she now recognized as a concrete cell, the kind in prison. A PA system was installed in the ceiling, surrounded by what were no doubt mini cameras in the form of little black dots easily mistakable for mold. There was no standard cell bars, just a steel door with no openings. More like a slab of steel in the middle of a wall than a door. She prayed the distinctly male guards weren't watching, and changed into the "uniform", a black and white prison-striped, ankle length dress. She hated it instantly. A number, A-666, was sewn into the breast pocket.

The door slid open, revealing two guards, presumably the ones talking to her, outside. They snapped handcuffs on her wrists. "Sorry, kid," the one, "Lester", said. That was the one who had been talking to her. "It's protocol." She nodded, she understood. They marched her to a large common hall. The steep ceilings that sloped to a point reminded Sybil of a church, like the one she went to one time with her cousins up in New York. There were four porthole windows one either side of the ceiling, the only source of natural light. The room was just...gray. Dismal. Dark. Any of those would work.

The inmates were sitting in clumps at tables, some playing card games, some reading magazines, some talking, some all three. She hung back with the guards, even as they unhandcuffed her.

"Piece of advice, kid," Lester said. "See that table of girls over there? With the strawberry blonde, dyed hair, and brunette? Sit there. Dyed hair'll con you out of everything you're worth, strawberry blonde can kill you from 300 feet away, and brunette'll snap you like a toothpick, but you're safe with them." Lester walked away, muttering something about "cell cleanup".

Sybil nodded, and headed over to their table hesitantly. As she approached, the girl with dyed hair slapped her cards down on the table and grinned at her, a candy cigarette between her teeth. "What can I do for ya, kid? Haven't seen you around here...need protection? Candy? A hookup?" She eyed Sybil. "Though you're kinda young for that...how old are ya, kid?"

The others eyed her the way a dog eyes food. She swallowed. "Sixteen."

"WOW, I didn't know they even took kids that young! What got ya in here?"

"I...um...it's a long story...a long, weird story..."

"Sit down, kid. I got time. And it's kinda boring here, if ya get me." She stood up, her electric blue and green hair bouncing behind her. "Yo. Dawson. Get up."

A large man well into his fifties glared at her, but the girl held his glare, and after a moment, he snorted, moving to the other side of his table. She dragged the metal folding chair over, the chair screeching.

"Here ya go." The girl had an easy way of speaking, not exactly a drawl, but not really like everyone else. She couldn't place the accent.

"Um. Thanks." Sybil sat down on the edge of the chair, taking a breath. "Well. My name is Sybil Demetrius."

The girl made a rolling hand movement as if to say "get on with it". Sybil nodded. "I have sleepwalking problems. Ever since I was five, I sometimes get up in the middle of the night, and without me knowing it, just wander around the house. I fell down the stairs once. Something broke my fall, though. Last night, I apparently went to Wayne Enterprises, and nearly dropped an employee of the building...I didn't know what I was doing. And I was also screaming some crazy stuff that rhymed. It was weird..." Sybil trailed off, not sure of how the other women would react.

The girl clapped, still grinning that crooked grin. "Oh my GOD, that's hilarious. Ya got style. Seriously." She broke into a fit of laughter that somehow made Sybil even more uneasy than she had been. "Well, now that we're all besties, I'll tell ya a little 'bout myself. My name is Blaze Tomlins, street magician, criminal, and all around con artist. Labels never really seemed to fit me, though. I'm like a rare butterfly, one that no one's ever seen before, and no one is really sure what can do. I'm the wild card, you could say."

"What got you in here?" Sybil asked. She immediately regretted it.

"Well, ya know. I was playin' a game, poker, with some of the best gamblers in town. They lost to me, of course. They didn't like that, and they tried to kill me and get their money back, of course. So I killed 'em back, of course. Three people stabbed multiple times, and I was diagnosed with a gambling addiction and kleptomania. So I ended up here with y'all." She put her feet up on the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sybil noticed Blaze had a jumpsuit. She probably had bribed a guard.

"Well, Goldilocks? Muscle man? Care to talk to the kid?"

The stocky brunette snorted, but the strawberry blonde softened. "Whaddaya wanna know?" she said in a soft voice that frankly scared Sybil more than if she had been gruff or loud.

"Well, um...who are you?" Sybil asked, shrinking back in her chair.

"Seelie Jones. I snipe people. Pick 'em off one by one from the sidelines. Word of advice for ya, don't underestimate me just because I don't like to get my hands dirty. That's what happened to an entire squad of GCPD officers." Her green eyes remained dull and emotionless.

"What did they do...?"

"Put simply, I'm a killer for hire, kid. They wanted to stop me. So I stopped them. Simple as that. But then that son of a gun Jim Gordon showed up at my next location, and my stupid a-hole of a gun jammed, and...well, I went here," she said, her soft voice turning cold and bitter.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. She wasn't sure what else to say. "Oh" was kind of her entire reaction to...everything in this place.

"Mm-hmm. Are we going to get back to cards or what?" she asked.

"Muscle man, you've gotta share something. We're practically saying our life stories here, you should say something," Blaze said, turning her head to the brunette.

The brunette wrinkled her nose, and snorted at Blaze. "Whatever. Amberley. I fight people and kill 'em, too."

Sybil's eyes widened. She had a feeling that was all she was going to get out of Amberley. She said nothing, feeling she'd sound like a broken record if she said "oh" one more time.

Blaze slapped down a wad of grimy playing cards near Sybil. "We're playing Go Fish. Join in."

Go Fish? Wasn't that a little...tame, for a person with a gambling addiction? She didn't question it, though.

"Guards are watching. Can't be too careful," Blaze explained while scrutinizing her cards. "Got any sevens, muscle man?"

Amberley growled, and shoved a card across the table at Blaze.

Blaze giggled. "I see...Goldilocks, your turn!"

Seelie whipped her golden-y orange hair around to face Blaze. "Got any jokers?"

Blaze rifled through her cards. "Hmm...go fish."

She carefully took a card from the haphazard pile and added it to her deck. Amberley opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the click-clack of dress shoes against the concrete floor. A guard's shoes, like Lester's.

The guard walked up to their table, grinning widely at them. Sybil felt a stab of fear run through her, this couldn't be good. Blaze's eyes widened. "Day-um," she said, eyes trained on the guard. "When did Arkham get sexy guards?"

The guard approached their table, shoving an inmate over out of his chair. The inmate snarled at him and drew back his fist to punch, but something about the guard made him scurry away. Oh dear lord, this couldn't be good...

He dragged the chair over with a squeak to their table. "Good morning ladies," he said in a young voice of someone not quite an adult yet.

"Hey gorgeous. I'm Blaze," Blaze said with a grin, crossing her feet from where they had been resting on the table.

The guard laughed, grinning even wider than Sybil thought possible. "Hey gorgeous. I'm Jerome."

Jerome. Jerome Valeska, the insane teen she'd seen on TV the past few days! That laugh, that grin. She had seen it before. Her jaw dropped open, and a hand clamped it shut immediately. "Shh, shh...no one can know I'm here," he said, glancing around.

She bit her lip. Why, oh why, did this have to happen to her?


End file.
